Disclaimer: All you recognize belong to J K Rowling and Warner Bros. The rest ? Comes strictly from my warped imagination ... No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N 1: This was inspired by Kelly Clarkson's "Addicted." Again, if you listen to the lyrics first, this madness should hopefully, make some sort of sense !

A/N 2: Pt II, "A Brooding Bat" is Severus' pov.

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The Flip Side ...

Pt II: A Brooding Bat

Merlin ! For the life of me, I don't understand why I keep doing this to myself ... Why I persist in putting myself through this agonizing hell. This bloody torture ... You'd have thought I'd have learnt my lesson nearly twenty years ago, but oh, no ... That's me, stubborn as hell and never knowing when to give up and admit defeat. Time and time again, over and over, I keep going back for more. Like a glutton for punishment ... I've no excuse for it and I can no longer blame the naivety and innocence of youth for this reckless folly. I loathe myself for being so weak. I hate having a chink in my armour that's the size of a rampaging hippogryff ... That he is my Achilles heel and will most likely be my downfall ...

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He's been my own personal nemesis since the day I first set foot across Hogwarts' threshold as a small, slight child. For five years I loathed him with an intense passion. He made the piss-poor excuse of a life I had pure hell and took immense pleasure in doing so. There were times I feared him greatly, although I made damn sure that I never showed him. I refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing that I'd been afraid of him - he'd have been absolutely intolerable if he'd known ...

Then, suddenly, at the beginning of my sixth year at Hogwarts, my obsessive hatred changed into something completely different ... Whether it was the influence of youthful, raging hormones or not, I don't know, but I became increasingly attracted to him. He'd always been good-looking, but now as a seventeen year old, he was strikingly handsome with his piercing grey eyes, long, dark hair and tall, lean, muscular physique. And despite the continuous, malicious torment he continued to bestow upon me, I found myself - to my complete horror - falling deeply in love for the first time in my life. With him ... If there was one thing I learnt from my new-found feelings, it proved what I'd originally believed to be love for Lily Evans was pure infatuation and nothing more.

He took permanent residence in my mind; he was always in my thoughts and I dreamt about him every night and usually woke up the following morning ashamed, frustrated and painfully hard. Unable to stop myself, I'd seek him out and would even start arguments with him just to gain his attention. It was perverse of me, I know, yet I couldn't help it. Even being continuously hexed, tormented and bullied was far better than being ignored by him. I yearned for him to notice me. Craved his attention, in fact ...

I loved him - and hated myself for it. Truly hated myself ...

I soon realized that night at the Whomping Willow, that I wasn't the only one who hated me - that's when I discovered how greatly he despised me. Everything changed then. I changed. Everything I felt, just vanished - or so I thought ... The pain he'd made me suffer, whether it was physical, mental or emotional was too much and it almost broke me. I vowed then, that I'd never let myself to care for or love anyone again ... I couldn't. I daren't ... I wouldn't. I'd never risk breaking my spirit or my fragile heart ever again. It'd destroy what little sanity I possessed and surely kill me in the process.

So, I hardened my heart, enclosed both it and myself within an icy fortress, away from pain and all harm. Yet despite my resolve, I was confused and so lost that I ended up making the biggest mistake of my life - one which I'm still paying for to this day. Dearly ...

I took the Dark Mark. Became one of Voldemort's followers. A Deatheater. Anything to try and forget him. But I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried. No matter how desperately I wanted to. The image of him permanently etched in my mind wouldn't allow me to. No matter how badly I wanted to hate him - I just couldn't.

Like I said, he's my weakness and I'm all too aware of it. I just don't know if I'll ever be able to give him up ... I tell myself that I have to, but I truly doubt I'll find the strength to do so. And I hate myself for that too ...

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Now years later, he's back in my life after spending time in Azkaban. Holed up as a prisoner for a crime he'd never committed. For twelve long, lonely, miserable years. An innocent wrongly imprisoned for something he didn't do. You'd have thought that I'd have taken pleasure in that fact. Revelled in it even. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to do so. I still felt - no - I still feel something for him, despite everything he'd put me through and it truly confuses me that he has the same effect on me now as he did then.

He's a shadow of a man compared to the stunning youth he'd once been. Azkaban's not been kind to him. He's leaner and his tattooed body has lost some of its muscle tone; the grey eyes are somewhat faded and weary; his dark, lustrous hair is still long, yet greying and he now possesses a neatly trimmed beard. Oh, he's still handsome and continues to take my breath away, make my heart race and stir my loins, but it's now the haggard, ravaged beauty of age and experience which makes him all the more alluring.

To my great horror and dismay, I find that I still want him - desperately - and I hate myself for that as well ...

The only good thing now, is that I no longer fear him as I used to. Being a Deatheater, or one of the Dark Lord's most trusted - no, that's not true, he trusts no one - "loyal" henchmen does that to a person. You lose all fear of men or you simply no longer care.

I don't want to care for him, but I can't help it. Whenever I'm forced to attend those bloody Order meetings at his godsforsaken hole of a home, I try my damnedest to ignore him and flee from the place as quickly as I can, but he won't let me to do that. He keeps needling and harassing me; he wears me down until my defences shatter completely and I'm forced to retaliate with biting sarcasm and cruel taunts. I stupidly let him get to me and that's yet another reason why I hate myself ...

It's taken almost twenty years of fighting and animosity and only now am I able to admit that I'm hooked to my weakness. For he is my weakness and always will be. Until I draw my last breath ... I'm too bloody tired to fight it any more. I tried to convince myself that I didn't care for him, that I didn't miss him while he was detained in Azkaban, but that wasn't true.

Sweet Merlin ! I can no longer lie to myself about this. It's futile and like any genuine addiction, it's slowly killing me ...

Oh, bollocks ! Why am I still so desperately in love with that stubborn, reckless, vexing, fleabitten Gryffindor mutt, Sirius-bloody-Black ? The powers-that-be are having a damn good laugh at my expense and Merlin, how they must really hate me ...

Finis